It's Complicated
by Muggle Jane
Summary: Three young women, three wizards back from the dead, a curse, marriage, and babies. It's complicated. Written for the HPFC Marriage Curse Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First thing, none of the characters are mine and I'm just writing this for fun.**

**Secondly, ok. This is for the Marriage Curse Challenge from HPFC. This is a "group" situation, as it were, so if multiple spouses isn't really your deal you're probably not going to enjoy this too terribly much.**

**Thirdly, I randomly got Albus Dumbledore, so I figured, "Eh, what the hell," and decided to go _here_ with it.**

Hermione braced her hand against a shelf in the library and stretched up to replace the book she'd taken down to study from the shelf above it. Truthfully, she was about as ready for her N.E.W.T.s as she was going to get and she was studying out of habit more than anything else, but she was getting antsy indoors. It was a beautiful spring day, and she told herself that she deserved a break to get some time outside to enjoy it. Just as soon as this book was away.

"Allow me to help you," came the kindly offer from behind her.

She lowered herself so her heels were touching the ground again and turned to look behind her. There was an auburn-haired man there, not quite as tall as Ron or Harry but still taller than she was. She handed him the book and stepped out of the way and he slid it easily back into place. "Thank you," she told him.

He turned to look at her again and there was a smile on his face and a friendly twinkle in his blue eyes. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "You're quite welcome," he replied.

"Are you here for the party? I'm afraid it doesn't start until this evening." It was May 2, exactly one year after the fall of Voldemort, and there was going to be an anniversary celebration in the rebuilt Great Hall that evening. Hermione wasn't really looking forward to it, but she knew she would be expected to be there. At least it was a chance to see her friends and family before school ended. She'd always looked forward to returning to Hogwarts every fall, but this year she found herself ready to leave, a feeling that grew stronger and stronger as the year wore on.

"I'm here for you," he replied gently.

She stared at him for a long moment, her mind whirling. "I'm... sorry?" she asked him after a long moment, her brown eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to work out just exactly what was going on.

"I think you feel it too," he replied, and held his hand out to her.

She felt compelled to take it, like there was something pulling her towards him. She was almost surprised to see her hand in his, she hadn't really remembered taking it. It felt right, somehow, like there was a weight lifted from her shoulders, a weight that she hadn't been aware of until just that moment. She peered into his blue eyes, searching for an answer. "Why?" she asked softly.

"I'm not certain," he replied honestly. "But I know that you are very important to me, and I to you."

She nodded at that. "Who are you?" she asked at last. "You look so familiar, I know I've seen you before."

"I am called Albus. To whom do I-"

"Albus what?" she interrupted him. She knew exactly where she'd seen those eyes before- in the lined face of a man at least 90 years this man's senior. Professor Dumbledore hadn't exactly been forthcoming about his younger years, perhaps this young man was a... grandson. A great grandson?

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, at your service." He lifted the hand he still held in front of him and leaned over to graze his lips across her knuckles.

Her face had paled with each successive part of his name and now she stared at him, mouth agape. "That's not possible," she whispered.

"I'm afraid it must be, because here I am," he replied gently, his eyes kind.

She found she could not look away from him. "You have a grandfather, a great grandfather, some ancestor who you were named after?" she asked desperately.

"It is rather a long name, isn't it?" he asked, sounding slightly apologetic. "I was named after a number of family members, to the point that there was no one left to name my brother after, and he just has the one name." There was a self-deprecating smile. "I always felt a touch guilty when my name was inscribed in a plaque when I was a boy in school." He looked around them, as if noticing where he was for the first time. "That's where we are, isn't it?" he asked. "Hogwarts has always been most welcoming for me."

"What is your brother's name?" She knew the answer, somehow, and she was dreading it at the same time.

"Aberforth."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't... We need to see the headmistress."

"You are troubled," he observed, frowning.

"Very," she agreed, backing away from him. She gasped as she bumped into the bookshelf, hard enough that books started to tumble out onto her head. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

The man calling himself Albus stepped towards her, holding out his hand for her. "Allow me to help you," he said again, and she shook her head violently.

* * *

Pansy became aware that she was being watched. She was in Diagon Alley for a bit of shopping before the dreadful Anniversary Ball that was scheduled for that evening. It wasn't as though she wanted to go, but Draco had to go, and he'd asked her to go with him...

She sighed. Things were complicated. They were very much in an "off" stage of their on-again-off-again relationship. He was going because his father was making him. His father, whose continued influence in his life- even though he was a grown man- was one of the largest sources of strife between them. But Draco had agreed to go and she felt sorry for him, no matter how "off" they were at the moment, so she had, in a moment of weakness, agreed to go with him.

But that was a problem for that evening. Right now, in that very moment, her problem was that someone was following her and had been for a little while.

"Look," she started, whirling around, but her words died in her throat when she saw him.

He wasn't the type of man she usually went for. He was tall, and she liked tall, but he was also very burly, and she preferred her men lean. His dark eyes seemed to see right through her and he was watching her with frank approval. "Good afternoon, miss," he greeted in a thick Scottish accent, his voice almost a growl, and she found herself moving towards him as though someone was pulling her there.

"Hello," she greeted and licked her suddenly dry lips. She sounded breathless. Pansy Parkinson did _not_ do breathless. She stopped walking and frowned, attempting to regain a little bit of control over the situation. "You've been following me," she accused, but it didn't come out nearly as harshly as she'd intended.

"I have," he admitted boldly.

"A gentleman does _not_ skulk about after a lady on her shopping," she said with a sniff and lifted her nose in disapproval.

"Oh, but I'm not a gentleman, miss," he replied, and then he _winked_ at her.

That wink, that base, lower-class, degrading gesture made her stomach flip over itself. She tried to tell herself it was irritation, and she failed rather spectacularly.

She turned her back on him with a huff and began walking again, determinedly ignoring him. But she could _feel_ him following her still, nevermind hearing his heavy, determined footfalls. And then, suddenly, he wasn't there anymore, and curse her for being disappointed.

She stopped and glanced around as though she was looking at the cauldrons of the shop she was conveniently in front of, but her pupils strained at the corners of her eyes, looking for him. He really was gone. She couldn't stop the disappointed sigh that slipped out and she resolutely turned and kept on walking.

Something caught her arm and then she was pressed up between a solid body and the wall behind her, a large hand heavily over her mouth. Her breath was coming heavily, her breasts pushing into his hard chest with every inhalation through her flared nostrils. He was _manhandling _her.

And, worse, she _liked_ it.

"I'd never force a girl," he growled at her, his voice sending shivers up and down her spine, "but something tells me I won't be forcing you. Will I?" His eyes were so close that they almost took up her entire field of vision, and they bored into hers.

She was shaking her head, she realized. His other hand fumbled between them and she realized exactly what was happening when she felt the late morning air against her bare hip. His hand over her mouth was holding her head immobile, but she looked around as much as she could. They were tucked away in the alley between two shops, and anyone could look down any moment and see them. Her eyes fluttered closed at the thought and she moaned into his heavy palm. Her hands crept up, locking together in the long dark hair at the nape of his neck.

He shifted her up against the wall and she realized that while he may not have been completely naked from the waist down like she was, he'd at least opened the front of his trousers and_- oh_!

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed into her, the hand still over her mouth muffling the whimpering noises she seemed to be making.

It didn't last long, but it didn't need to. She found her release just an instant before he grunted with his, and it was the most _intense_ feeling she'd ever had. Nothing she and Draco had ever done had even come close to this abrupt shag against the wall of a building with a complete stranger.

He dropped his hand from her mouth and leaned forward to give her a short, intense kiss.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"Alastor Moody, miss," he replied.

She screamed.

* * *

Ginny was standing and looking out over the Black Lake. She was feeling very restless. At least she would get to see Harry that night, she told herself, and the thought cheered her a little. School this year was very tough, in some ways even more so than last year. Sure, last year there had been the punishments and torture and all of that, but she'd felt like she was actually doing something. This year, it felt like the only thing she was doing was waiting. She was so tired of waiting.

The giant squid was floating its tentacles lazily along the top of the water. She had to smile when she saw it; it was proof that some things never changed. And tonight she would get to see Harry and Ron and her whole family and it would be nice.

A pair of arms settled themselves around her waist. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a shock of messy black hair as a chin rested itself lightly on her shoulder. She had to smile. "I didn't think you were going to be able to come in until tonight," she murmured.

"I'm all yours," came the answer. But wait, that was entirely the wrong voice. Deeper, more elegant.

She spun around, shoving the young man away from her. He looked a lot like Harry- tall, thin, same hair, same general face structure, but those were not Harry's eyes. "You're not Harry!" she snapped at him, and she could feel the heat rushing to her face.

"You're not Lily!" he accused her.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "No, no, no." The eyes. The face. She _knew_. She'd seen this very man in pictures in Harry's treasured album. "No, this is impossible." She sank to the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes. "You're James Potter," she whispered.

"Well, of course I am," he replied in an arrogant sort of way. "And who the bloody hell are you?"

She pulled out her wand and summoned a Patronus, sending the horse away with an _urgent_ message for Harry. "I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

"Weasley, Weasley..." He frowned, thinking, then his eyes lit up exactly the same way Harry's did when he had a sudden idea. "Any relation to Molly Weasley? Lovely woman, she's the twins' sister."

"Yeah." Ginny nodded. "She's my mum."

He shook his head. "No, she's got boys. Young ones, William and... Fred... Bilius?" He shook his head. "No, that's not right. Anyway, she's definitely not old enough to have a child as old as you." He looked around them. "Wait, is this the Black Lake? How the devil did I get here?"

"I would _really_ like know," Ginny muttered bitterly.

His eyes came back to lock on hers. Hazel, his eyes were hazel. "Well, it's been... interesting... but I need to get back to my wife and son now."

"Harry's on his way. The Patronus, that's going to take him a message. He should be here soon." Ginny really hoped he would be there soon.

James Potter shook his head. "No, he's just a baby. What good is a Patronus going to do for him?"

The redhead took a deep breath. Apparently she got to be the one to have this particular conversation. "You... You died, Mr. Potter." She registered the disbelief on his face. "It's, um, 1999. You died and Harry is... Well, he's almost 19."

"No," he whispered. "No. No!" The last one was a shout. "This is a trick, isn't it? This is a... some sort of ruse by Voldemort." He patted his pockets and then his sleeves and seemed momentarily put off when he came up empty. And then his eyes narrowed in on her. "You," he accused, and then he was upon her, his fingers grasping the sleeves of her robes and trying to pull them up as she tried to push him away. "Show me your Mark, witch!"

"No!" she cried. "Stop!" Her hands were pushing at his, trying to fend him off of her. If this was anyone else, she would have kneed a rather delicate area; she didn't grow up with that many older brothers without learning how to scrap. But she didn't want to hurt him. She didn't know how it was even remotely possible, but this was Harry's dad. She couldn't hurt Harry's dad. "Get off!" He was leaning his weight on her and she felt his forearm pressing heavily on her windpipe, cutting off her air supply. She became a lot less reluctant to hurt him. She pulled out her wand and cast a silent _Stupefy_ at him.

Air flooded her lungs as he flew backwards and she gulped it gratefully, coughing a little.

There was a_whoosh _of air and Harry jumped off his broom, rushing toward her, concern etching his face. "What is it, Ginny?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just lifted her finger and pointed.

"Dad?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the comments! :D Lot of exposition in this one. A whole lot.**

In the end, it had taken Hagrid's arrival to calm Mr Potter down enough to get him into the castle and up to the headmistress's office. Hermione had already been there, looking pale and drawn, with the auburn-haired man who was now sitting on her right. Professor McGonagall had looked distressed, but she'd actually started crying when she'd seen Mr Potter. Ginny couldn't remember ever seeing the stern headmistress cry, and that shook her even more than the idea that Harry's dad had attacked her.

She rubbed her throat at the thought, it still hurt a little. She was sitting beside Hermione in one of a cluster of chairs pulled together in the Minister of Magic's office. Mr Potter was sitting on her other side, his chair pulled as far away as he could manage in the enclosed space, and she glared at the side of his head. Pansy, Ginny hadn't seen her in about a year. She was staring hard at the Minister and pointedly _not_ at the large man who was sitting on her other side and watching her with a rather smug look on his face. Every so often she would steal a glance at him and her cheeks would go a little pink. Who knew Pansy Parkinson blushed?

Rounding out the group in the office was Harry, who was fidgeting rather agitatedly beside the Minister, and the Unspeakable sitting against the wall, who was studying them all like they were in some sort of zoo exhibit. He hadn't been introduced as such, but there wasn't really anything else he could be.

It was early evening and they'd missed lunch, not that Ginny was really hungry. From Hogwarts, they'd been shuffled off to the Ministry of Magic where they'd met a leering Alastor Moody and a blushing Pansy Parkinson, and then off to St. Mungo's where every sort of test they could have undergone was undertaken. That was when Aberforth had shown up and had asked very personal questions of the three wizards and declared that they were either who they said they were, or very skilled liars, and then departed again. He seemed very shaken, especially by the presence of his brother among them. They were all young, younger than they had been when they died- even Harry's dad- and none of them seemed to have any recollection of their lives after their present ages.

And now they were back in the Minister's office, waiting on the Unspeakable to give them some sort of answer. _Any sort of answer would be really nice_, Ginny thought to herself.

"There is a very old ritual," he was saying, tapping one finger thoughtfully against his bottom lip. "But it requires seven."

Even Shacklebolt, normally calm and unflappable, seemed out-of-sorts from what was going on. "Tell us," he said slowly.

"It's a very dark ritual," the Unspeakable said with a frown. "A dying wizard binds himself and up to five of his fallen comrades to a number of witches to make the full number, seven. A year following his death, the wizards rise from the dead and seek out the witches."

"So far, this seems to have been what happened, save the number," Albus said from beside the bushy-haired witch, and she nodded in agreement.

"The seven must then intermarry and each witch, presuming there is more than one, must bear a child to each wizard."

Ginny's eyes flew to Hermione's and they joined hands. They held to each other, reassuring each other. This was not going anywhere that any of them wanted it to go.

"If they do not, the witches lose their magic and the wizards... Die again."

The girls' grips on each other's hand tightened.

"If they do, the caster of the curse gains unimaginable power, and a legacy of children to continue his work after he dies. This has happened only one time in recorded history, at the end of the thirteenth century, in Scotland." The Unspeakable finished talking and was looking among the formerly dead wizards.

"From what you've told us, all of us have died over a year ago," Mr Potter said. "So it's obviously not one of us. Where is the other wizard?"

The Unspeakable didn't really have an answer for that. "I don't know. It might very well be that this isn't the same curse."

"What would happen if the caster hadn't moved on?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I'm not certain," the Unspeakable replied, his eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"When I... died..." Harry started. He didn't like to talk about that time, and Ginny had never really heard the full story. "He was there. Voldemort. I went into Limbo and I was given the option of coming back or of moving on. He never had that option. He will never move on."

"He died a year ago," Hermione added softly. "And he certainly loved power."

"And preserving himself," Harry agreed. "Seven horcruxes. It fits his style."

"There is no way I'm doing this," Pansy spoke up, looking around the room. "Marriage... Babies with these... these..."

"You seemed quite taken with me earlier, miss," Professor Moody said and she blushed again. "I know how to find a quiet bit of wall around this place..."

The other two witches exchanged another look.

"That's a good point. If," Mr Potter was saying. "If this is what happened, why... Why us? Obviously none of us cared for Voldemort, why would we help him?"

"There are ways around reluctance," Albus spoke up. "And he seems like the type of man who would take great pleasure from hurting you or those you love."

"What if I... don't?" Mr Potter asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He was the wizard who seemed to be having the hardest time adjusting to what was going on. It was understandable. His wife was dead, his son was a year younger than he was now... Still, that was no reason to go around attacking people. Ginny glared at him again.

"_If _this is the curse I've described, there's a good chance that because the caster of the curse didn't come back himself, the magic will not be contained to the six of you," the Unspeakable answered.

"What does that even mean?" Pansy snapped, folding her arms tightly under her breasts.

"That you three witches wouldn't be the only ones to lose their magic."

Hermione blanched. She clung tightly to Ginny's hand. "How many?"

"Does it matter?" the Minister asked evenly, and she shook her head. "We can perform the wedding right now."

"No," Pansy protested. "You can't do this! I can't-"

"You want to be a squib, Parkinson?" Ginny snapped. "I sure don't."

Professor Moody lifted his hand and traced his finger around the outer edge of her ear. "I'll make it worth your while, miss," he promised in a low growl, and Pansy flushed so much that Ginny thought she was going to catch fire.

"Mum's going to kill me," Ginny murmured. Her mum had been planning her wedding since she'd found out that her youngest child was a girl. She looked up and met Harry's eyes and flinched at the naked pain she saw, and suddenly the thought about her mum seemed silly and insignificant. She wanted to go to him, to apologize, but there was no way to get to him, and what would she say? "Sorry," she apologized quietly, looking away from the hurt in his face. She felt Hermione squeeze her hand.

"What about school?" Hermione asked. Trust Hermione to bring up school at a time like this. "We sit our N.E.W.T.s next month."

The Minister frowned. "How long do they have, Hunt?" he asked the Unspeakable, drawing everyone's eyes again to the man sitting against the wall.

"I'm not sure," the Unspeakable replied, again tapping his lower lip with his finger. "The last time this happened, they started..." he paused, seemingly searching for the right word. "Procreating right away. I believe other rituals involving procreation give a year, but that's not really my field of study."

The Minister picked up his quill and wrote a short missive on a piece of purple paper sitting on his desk. When he was done, he tapped it with his wand and it formed itself into a purple aeroplane before rising off of his desk and flying out of the mail slot in his closed office door. "I've sent for Garrity, I'll need the two of you to work together on this."

The Unspeakable nodded.

The Minister waved his wand again, this time at an empty space on his desk, and a column of smooth, pale wood rings appeared. "Finish your N.E.W.T.s," he told the two witches still attending school. "I'll speak to the headmistress about allowing you to leave school as soon as those are complete. If you will all please rise?"

"Can I find someone else to witness... this?" Harry asked, his voice strangled as he focused on the stack of what were very obviously wedding rings sitting on the Minister's desk.

The Minister frowned again. He'd done a lot of frowning since they first turned up in his office. "Yes, Potter. My secretary should be in by now."

Harry edged around the group of people in front of the Minister's desk and left the room as quickly as he could, without even a backward glance. Ginny watched him over her shoulder and her heart hurt as the door shut behind him with a terrible finality. Hermione squeezed her hand again.

"Where are we going to live?" Professor Moody asked from the far end of the group.

"What, you mean together?" Pansy's eyes swept disdainfully over the assembled witches and wizards. "Live with all of you?" she scoffed. She'd stood up when the Minister had instructed them to, her arms still folded tightly in front of her.

The burly wizard beside her gripped her upper arm and pulled her down until she was perched on his knee. "Bit hard to make babies living apart, wouldn't you say?"

"My brother has generously offered rooms at his inn until we are able to find suitable permanent lodgings," Albus suggested.

"Oh no," Pansy declared disdainfully. "I am _not_ staying there." She seemed curiously content with her new seat.

The door opened again, and a brown-haired witch with a pinched face, presumably Minister Shacklebolt's secretary, came in. "Yes, Minister?" she asked.

"Living in Hogsmeade would be a good idea," Shacklebolt said with another great frown. "I can't imagine a lot of Muggles would really understand your situation." He turned his attention to the newcomer. "Miss Locke, I need you to witness a wedding."

She was taken aback, apparently this wasn't the type of request she got every day. "Whose- whose wedding, sir?" she asked, looking among the assembled witches and wizards.

"All of them. Just as soon as Garrity gets here."

In bustled a very scattered looking wizard with gray hair and an untidy look about him. "I haven't performed a wedding in years, Minister," was the first thing out of his mouth. "Oh, hello, Hunt. How's the wife?"

"You are one of a handful of people who can conduct a wedding between more than two people," Shacklebolt said pointedly.

"Well, yes, but there hasn't been that kind of union since..." he trailed off, looking at the group gathered together in front of the Minister's desk. "Merlin, how many of you are- are- are- are there?" His eyes were as big as saucers.

"Six," Shacklebolt replied concisely.

"Right," Garrity said and pulled at the collar of his untidy robes. "Right. Six. Right." He cleared his throat. "Everyone rise, please."

Everyone stood. The wedding was not at all what Ginny had thought her wedding would be like. The scattered Unspeakable, for that's surely what he was as well, seemed to rush his way headlong through it, so quickly that she could barely catch what he was saying. There was a lot of time spent pledging to each other, each witch and wizard had to speak the oath-vows to three people- honor and respect and curiously nothing about love- rings were handed out to each participant, and then, suddenly the wedding was over. Almost over, it needed to be sealed with a kiss. A lot of kisses.

There was a bit of hesitation among them, and then Alastor backed Pansy up against the wall and was kissing her in a way that was hardly appropriate in front of other people. Ginny was no stranger to snogging in public, but they seemed one step away from pulling each others' clothes off. In fact, it was only the Minister shouting, "Moody!" that made the burly wizard step back, a very satisfied look on his face. Pansy looked slightly dazed, and Ginny couldn't help but snicker.

On her other side, Albus had given Hermione a gentle kiss, nowhere near the level of passion that had just been displayed but there seemed to be real affection between them.

Ginny looked over at Harry's dad- James, her husband- what was her last name going to be now, anyway? He was looking down at her, his hazel eyes slightly subdued. "We need to..."

"Right." He stepped into her. He was within an inch of his son's height. "You look a lot like her," he said quietly, and then he leaned over and closed his lips to hers.

She had meant it to be a brief kiss, like the one Hermione had just had, but when his mouth met hers it was as though a jolt of electricity ran through her, from her lips all the way down to her toes. She reached up her hand to rest on his shoulder and leaned up into the kiss.

And then it was over. He straightened, looking just as shaken as she felt. For all that she was in love with this man's son, Harry's kisses had certainly never felt anything like that.

She turned from him, her head spinning and confused. Albus was right there and he gave her a reassuring smile before he bent to kiss her. His kiss was tentative, gentle, and while it didn't affect her as much as James' had, she still felt the curious jolt at the contact.

That left... Alastor. He looked a lot different than he had when she'd known him. He had both eyes, both legs, his entire nose, and he seemed to be lacking the air of paranoia that had followed him everywhere.

The chairs were gone, she noticed, and it was a lot easier to move about the room. He was a lot closer than he had been after he'd kissed Pansy, presumably he'd already kissed Hermione because everyone was watching them expectantly. "Always liked redheads," he growled as he came towards her. The voice was definitely the same. His hand slid around waist, settling low enough on her back that his little finger was grazing the upper swell of her backside. She could feel the heat from the color rising in her cheeks now; she felt a certain understanding towards Pansy.

He kissed her fiercely, and she felt the same jolt for a third time. His tongue was probing at the seam of her lips and she opened for him and made a soft noise of surprise when his tongue flicked against hers.

And then he was away from her and her knees were feeling a little shaky. "Don't glare at me like that, miss, you just kissed your two other husbands as well," Alastor told a scowling Pansy.

Before Ginny really had a chance to regain herself, the Minister was talking again as he spread out a series of documents across the top of his desk. "I've spoken with Professor McGonagall. The two of you are to return to your studies tomorrow and as soon as you've finished with your N.E.W.T.s, you'll be permitted to leave Hogwarts early. The rest of you... Professor McGonagall has offered you the use of her house in Hogsmeade until you can secure something on a permanent basis."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a look. Professor McGonagall had a house in Hogsmeade?

"We all need to sign everything and we're already running late for the Anniversary Ball." Shacklebolt had a strange urgency in his voice that no one in the room had ever heard before. He was known for his slow, careful speech pattern.

There was a flurry of quills as everyone in the room clustered around the desk and exchanged forms to sign until at last every piece of parchment had ten signatures on it.

"Thank you, Garrity, Hunt, Miss Locke." The three left the room and the Minister took in the assembly before him. "You may all use the floo to travel to Hogwarts."

"What, now? I'm not dressed, I'm hardly ready for a ball!" Pansy protested.

"I understand Miss- Mrs- Pansy," Shacklebolt settled on at last. Apparently he didn't know the last name protocol for a marriage between six people either. "But we are already running late and it is imperative that we announce the return of... your husbands before they are seen and recognized. I highly doubt that there won't already be rumors flying around." He frowned again.

Ginny looked down at her school robes. She'd been married in her school robes. At least Pansy was wearing a pretty blouse and a nice pair of trousers. She typically didn't care too much about clothes, but her own ideas about her wedding had certainly never involved school robes. She was married. It was so surreal, it hadn't really sunk in, yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione stepped through the floo first and then she recognized the staffroom at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, a very troubled look on her face. "There you are," she said, as more people started emerging from the floo. "Everyone's been asking about you. Mr. Potter has declined to say anything, thankfully, but there's been talk of course." Her green eyes rested for a moment on the new pale band gracing the third finger of Hermione's left hand and she sighed. "Congratulations," she offered before pulling the younger witch into a brief embrace.

Hermione was shocked. Her former Head of House was always her favorite professor and they had certainly grown closer in the past year, but she didn't know they were on hugging terms. The headmistress was obviously very unsettled.

"There you are, Minister." Professor McGonagall sounded relieved as the Minister stepped out of the fireplace, the last one through. "They're getting a bit restless in there," she told him.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Yes. I'll speak now." He led the group out of the staffroom and through to where the doors to the Great Hall were standing open. The usual long benches and tables had vanished in favor of small chairs and tables clustered around the end of the room with the door, and there were all kinds of people milling around and talking. He took Hermione's elbow and propelled her along beside him and as soon as they cleared the doors, the party-goers inside broke into waves of applause.

Hermione hated this part. As soon as the applause stopped, the buzz of speculation started. There were still people who recognized James, especially, who'd known him when he was alive at the age he was now, and the buzz grew to a low din.

Shacklebolt had to amplify his voice to be heard over the noise. Hermione was completely out of her element and uncomfortable, and so she did what she always did in such situations; she started to plan.

Wands. They would need new wands. And jobs, too, though it seemed Professor Moody- Alastor- was well on his way to resuming his job as an Auror. Would Albus want to go back to teaching? James had been born into wealth and had never had a job. What were the legal implications of his coming back? Would he automatically have access to Harry's inherited bank vault? Hermione's mind was whirling with the sheer amount of questions she had. And she didn't have a chance to ask any of them. As soon as Shacklebolt was done speaking, the dancing started and she had to take a round on the dance floor with Harry who was very subdued and still no better at dancing than he had been four years ago, and Ron who was confused every time she evaded his attempts to pull her close.

When she was finally able to get away, Ginny was talking to her parents- Mrs Weasley was sobbing into a handkerchief while Mr Weasley stood beside them, his arms around his wife and an utterly bemused look on his face as he stared at James.

James was talking with the Minister of Magic and Professor McGonagall and doing his level best to ignore the conversation that was very obviously centered around him.

Alastor and Pansy were nowhere to be seen, actually, and that didn't really surprise Hermione at all after the display in Minister Shacklebolt's office. At this rate, it wasn't going to take very long for Pansy to start conceiving all those babies they were all supposed to have.

And Albus... As if summoned by her thoughts, he walked to where was sitting at a small table, a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, "Your fingers keep twitching as though you're looking to write things down."

Hermione had to smile at that. "I do desperately want to start making lists. There's just so much... And it helps me to be organized."

He handed her the items and sat in the chair beside her. "This is a lot for a young woman to take in."

"For a man as well, I imagine" she murmured in return and immediately lowered the quill to the paper. "Wands. Have Alastor tell Pansy to take you shopping tomorrow. Clothes, too." She added the second item to her list. "Pansy's really good at spending money, that shouldn't be a problem," she added under her breath.

"You don't get along, you and Ginny, and Pansy," he observed.

"No," Hermione replied shortly. "We don't. Pansy was pretty miserable to us when we were all in school together. I'm a Muggle-born and the snootier pureblood families consider Ginny's family to be blood traitors and we just... never got on."

"Ah," he replied, as though that answered everything.

Hermione frowned at the parchment, avoiding his eyes. Even as a young man, he had the ability to make her feel guilty about what she'd said without actually saying anything about it. "Have you given a thought to... employment?"

"Yes. I'll be taking the transfiguration position here. Minerva tells me I was headmaster before my untimely demise."

"You were." It was so strange, talking to someone about the things they'd done in their life that they hadn't done yet. From discussions throughout the day, it had turned out that Albus was 26, which was the time of his life when he'd first taken the position that he was now talking about. "You'd never married, though, at least as far as we knew." She looked up then, meeting his blue eyes. "Then again, we didn't even know you had a brother and sister until after you'd died."

"No, I don't imagine I would have married. I'm not attracted to women, as a general rule."

Hermione gaped at him, quill forgotten in her hand and bleeding a large amount of ink onto the parchment. "I'm... sorry?"

"I must admit, from a 'hurting your enemies' standpoint, it's very clever," he told her, as easily as though he was talking about someone else. "I am... drawn to you and the other witches involved in this situation, which is rather fortunate, I should think."

Hermione could only nod.

Just then, Ron came and slung himself into the chair on her other side. "There you are. Mum's been crying a lake over there and she won't tell anyone else what it's all about. Do you know?"

Another mute nod. How did she tell the man she'd been falling in love with ever since he'd helped save her from that troll in the girls' lavatory, that she was now married? To three other men. To three other men who had, up until that morning, been very dead.

He leaned forward and draped his arm over her shoulders. "Everyone is acting so weird today. Are you really Albus Dumbledore?" he asked her husband.

"Indeed I am," the other man returned.

"That's wicked. I'm so glad you're not really into dancing, 'Mione."

She shrugged his arm off of her shoulders and stood up. "We need to talk, Ron."

He looked taken aback. "Well, that sounds serious. Is this about what Mum's gone through three handkerchiefs over?"

"Yes," she replied slowly. She glanced back at Albus,

"I will await your return," he reassured her, rolling up the parchment.

She nodded and led Ron into a corner well away from everyone else. "She's married," she blurted out, trying to keep her voice down. "She got married."

"She and Harry eloped? Good on them. We should think about it, too." He nudged her arm with a grin on his face. "Why does he look like someone killed his puppy, then? He should be happy, married and his dad's back all on the same day!"

"No, not Harry." She swallowed against the thick lump in her throat. Tears were pricking her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently. "I got married today too."

He stared at her for a moment, his face full of shock. Then an incredulous grin spread his mouth wide. "That's a good one, 'Mione, for a minute I thought you were actually serious."

"I am serious, Ron," she snapped. She held out her hand where the plain wedding band hugged her finger. "What do you think that is?"

He stared at the ring for a moment, and his mouth opened and closed a few times as though he had something to say and thought the better of it. "If this is one of George's stupid pranks, it's not funny," he croaked after a moment, his face slightly green.

"No, it's not," she shot back. "There was a curse and then we had to or a lot of witches would have lost their magic."

The tips of his ears were turning pink as he did what he always did when he was confused or got upset- his temper came up. "Who was it, then?" he demanded. "It was one of those dead tossers, wasn't it?" He was yelling now, and heads turned in their direction.

Tears slipped from between her lashes and slid silently down her cheeks. "I had to," she pleaded.

"Yeah, well... You keep telling yourself that." He spun on his heel and stalked away from her, headed to where Harry was sitting by himself, staring disconsolately at the table in front of him.

She turned and left the Great Hall. She didn't know where she was going, but she wanted to be away from there. Tears blurred her vision and she walked automatically, letting her feet lead her wherever they would. She came to a flight of stairs and sank down on them, hugging her legs to her as she buried her face in the school robes still covering her knees.

After a short time, she felt an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently into a comforting embrace. She looked up and saw it was Albus and she was a little relieved. "You were in a relationship with that young man?"

She nodded, letting herself relax against his side. "We were dating. He's one of my best friends. Was." She was sure that Ron hated her. She didn't think too much of herself in that moment, either.

"Love is never easy," he replied gently. "This may seem like an inopportune moment, but I believe what I am about to say is very relevant, especially given your altercation this evening. I know a charm to heighten fertility."

She lifted her face and looked at him, her brown eyes full of questions. "I... how? Why? I thought you didn't..."

"That is precisely why. I had, for a time, thought of continuing my family line. It would have been easier for me to ensure conception on the first attempt."

She nodded, wiping the trails of wetness from her face. That made a lot sense, when he put it that way.

"You seem like an ambitious woman, Hermione," he observed, and there was a note of praise in his voice. "If I may, it seems like you would see the merits in getting through the childbearing obligations of this curse as soon as possible."

"I've been thinking about that," she admitted. "I'm 19 now. Within four years, I could have my body back and still be young enough to pursue a full career." Twin spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. "I mean... Not have to share my body with a baby, and nursing, and all of that."

He chuckled. "I understand. It may also be that the marital requirements of the curse will become unnecessary at that time."

She nodded thoughtfully, her mind spinning with half-formed ideas. "I hope you won't think any less of me at this request, but would you mind, um..." her voice faltered and she forced herself to go on, a blush spreading across her face and down her neck that would have put Ginny to shame. "Impregnating me? N-Now, I mean." That sounded ridiculous, and about as unromantic as the act could possibly get.

"Even though you are not finished with school?" He didn't seem put off by the request. "Do you truly wish to finish out your year in such a state?"

She nodded. "The sooner, the better, I believe. This would actually be an opportune time because, from my understanding, the first symptoms- sickness and fatigue- usually don't start until halfway through the second month, by which time I would have just finished my N.E.W.T.s. And even if they started a little early, there are potions and things to help." All traces of despair were gone as she settled into what her friends affectionately called, 'lecture mode.'

"Is there somewhere we could retire to? I somehow think the consummation of our marriage on the very public stairs of your school and my future place of employment would be rather frowned upon."

Hermione laughed, her nerves at the rash decision showing through. "Yes." She thought for a moment. Her dorm room was out, obviously. The prefect's bathroom was a little more private, but there were still too many other people with free access to it. What about the Room of Requirement? The Room of Hidden Things had been destroyed by Crabbe's Fiendfyre, but the rest of it worked just fine and had become a bit of a meeting point for the dating students in the castle who wished to get a bit more privacy.

She certainly wished to get a bit more privacy. She could only hope that no one else was currently using it. She unfolded herself and stood, catching his hand and drawing him up beside her. He seemed to the wizard who had thought this through and adjusted the best; Alastor was too busy trying to get into Pansy's knickers and James was having a hard time getting past not having Lily anymore. Then again, Albus had shown time and again in his later life that he was adaptable and very shrewd.

They walked up in silence and, after a short time, they were there. Hermione knew that if the room was occupied, the door wouldn't appear for her. She paced back and forth in front of it, thinking of her 'requirement' of a private bedroom.

A door appeared in the hall and she was a little relieved when she saw it. It opened to reveal a comfortable-looking bedroom, with a four-poster bed that looked suspiciously like a larger version of the bed in her dorm room. They went in and sat together on the bed and Hermione was very suddenly uncomfortable. She wouldn't admit to being nervous, but uncomfortable certainly fit the bill. "I'm, um, not a virgin."

He didn't look surprised, which surprised her. By all accounts, the early part of the century had been remarkably less sexually liberated than now. "Nor am I," he said, "although I'm certain you've gathered that I've never had relations with a woman."

"This is really uncomfortable for me," she admitted, her cheeks once again growing pink. "We only just met this morning." She was doing her level best not to think of this man as the centenarian she knew, things were awkward enough already.

"We don't have to do this yet if you're not comfortable," he offered very seriously, and lifted the hand he still held to his lips.

"No," she said quickly. "No, we should. Do you need to borrow my wand? For the, um, charm, I mean."

"Yes."

She pulled her wand from the inside pocket of her robes and handed it to him. He took it and whispered something she couldn't make out, then tapped her abdomen gently.

Immediately there was a sharp stab of pain at the side of her abdomen and she gasped. "Is this supposed to hurt?" she ground out, her hands flying to touch her side, just above her hipbone.

"I'm sorry, that I don't know." Another spell, wordless this time, and the pain vanished.

She smiled weakly at him; he looked alarmed. "I'm fine," she said. "Fine. We really need to get you your own wand."

"Yes," he agreed, handing hers back. "You're certain you're all right?"

"Fine," she said again, stowing the wand back in her robes. "I think we're both a little overdressed, though." She stood and quickly stripped down to nothing before she lost her nerve. It was quite easy to see that the color that had flooded her face in fact spread down to her navel. She was looking very pointedly at the bedspread. She'd lost her virginity to Viktor Krum when she was 15, and had since expanded her total number of lovers to two, with the tall redhead she'd just had words with downstairs. But that was still, apparently, considerably more experience with the opposite sex than the man in front of her on the bed had.

"You're very lovely," he told her sincerely, catching his hands behind her waist and pulling her forward until she was standing between his knees. His hands slowly explored her form, tracing each curve and dip from her neck down to the backs of her knees. "These scars," he questioned, bringing his hand back up to brush across the letters etched in silvery tissue on the inside of her forearm.

"It was a very dark time," she told him quietly. "I was tortured."

"I am sorry." He brought her arm gently forward and brushed his lips against the scars there. His mouth traveled up to the inside of her elbow and then over to the gentle curve of her stomach. When his tongue swirled in her navel, she bit her lip and let out a quiet sigh. The next moment she had to giggle as he nuzzled his crooked nose in the hollow between her breasts, it tickled a little. "Why don't you lie down and I'll join you in a moment?" he suggested softly.

She nodded and moved across the bed until she was up where the pillows were. She watched him disrobe as well, and then slide up the bed in surely a more graceful fashion than she just had. His lips were on hers, gentle but more certain than the kiss they'd shared when they'd been married. They kissed and touched, tenderly becoming acquainted with each others' bodies. She ended up on top of him, leaning forward to kiss him as she straddled his hips, each of them rocking gently into the other as they made sweet love together. The room filled with whispers and sighs, and the softest of moans as she was overcome by her pleasure.

Spent as well, he pulled her down beside him into his arms and she realized she was crying again. "What is it?" he asked tenderly, leaning over to kiss the tears away as they fell.

"I felt more with you than I ever have before." She felt so guilty and so utterly wrong about how _right_ this all felt.

"I believe that is a side effect of the magic binding us together, and not a reflection of any lack of feeling between yourself and your former paramour," he told her as he brushed a kiss against her shoulder. "I told you that I am not typically taken by the charms of a witch, but I felt the same way. It saddens me to think that, should we be released from this curse, I will never find this again. And, as lovely as you are, I'm certain that I would not feel the same attraction to you as I do now, without it." His voice was pleasant enough, but there was an overwhelming hint of melancholy underneath.

"I'm so sorry, Albus," she whispered, closing her eyes against the tears.

"Don't be sorry," he told her gently. "Simply enjoy what we have now for as long as we have it; for if we never have it again, it will be better to look back with fond memories than to look back with regrets for not seizing the opportunity when it was presented."

"'It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,'" she quoted quietly, and pulled one of his hands up to kiss.

**A/N: Thank you for the awesome reviews! :D I tried to make (ahem) "the encounter" start off awkwardly and end up kind of sweet. My young!Albus is played by Henry Cavill in my head (like he was in The Tudors, just auburn-haired).**


	4. Chapter 4

Pansy was bored. There wasn't so much any dancing as there was standing around and gossiping about wizards coming back from the dead, and apparently news was traveling around that there had been weddings, although the extent of it didn't seem to be known yet. Ginny's mum had finally left, still crying, and now Ginny was sitting uncomfortably at the edge of the room with her strange blond friend, Loony or whatever her name was. Hermione had left the Ball on the tail end of her now-ex-boyfriend's tantrum and Albus had disappeared shortly after her. They'd been gone for a while, little wonder what they were likely doing.

Not that she hadn't done the very same thing, she reminded herself with a smirk. Alastor had pulled her outside and down to the Forbidden Forest and had taken her against a tree. And not that she had minded, and especially not when he'd growled into her ear that the next time he was going to get her completely naked and find out what it took to make her scream.

She shifted a little in her seat. Where was Alastor, anyway? Over there, talking with Shacklebolt and the sulkiest of her three husbands, James. He would probably fit her type almost exactly, if he'd just stop moping around. And took off the glasses.

Even Draco was standing around, talking with his parents and a couple of other former classmates of theirs. He kept looking at her curiously and then looking away, but he hadn't made his way over to see her yet. Probably for the best. They were, after all, "off," and on a permanent basis now that she was going to be... involved in this. She did feel a little bit sorry for the other girls, though, not that she'd tell them that. They had both been in serious relationships until just a few hours earlier, and Potter and Weasley seemed determined to be a pair of prats about the whole thing.

Was it late enough to leave yet? She watched Hermione and Albus walk back in. Hermione's hair was even less under control than it had been previously. She smirked again. Why didn't she just cut it all off anyway? She might even be a little pretty if she just got rid of that bird's nest. For a mudblood, anyway. Muggle-born, she corrected herself. There was little doubt that anyone else involved in her new relationship would appreciate _that_ term. A bunch of bloody Gryffindors. And it was all Draco's precious father's fault. It could be Loony stuck with them instead, if he hadn't gone and cocked it all up.

Not that it didn't have its rewards. Alastor's dark eyes met hers and he winked at her again and she could feel the blush in her cheeks. Damn him and the effect he had on her. She lifted her nose and turned her head, but she knew that they both knew that if he chose to walk over, she'd be like soft clay in his hands.

_Again_.

She rose from her chair and walked over to where Hermione and their three husbands were standing now, talking among themselves. From the look on her face, the bossy little know-it-all was probably lecturing them. Pansy had seen that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. "Excuse me," she interrupted coolly, slipping her hand around Alastor's arm. "I think it's time to leave; I'd hate trying to find our new house when I'm just too tired to see straight." The other witch was scowling, but she continued. "Please tell me you have the address."

No one had, apparently. Shacklebolt had neglected to mention it in his office and no one had thought to ask while they were at the Ball.

"All right, I guess it's up to me," she said with a sniff and turned her head, scanning for the headmistress. There she was, talking with some of the other staff, and damn if she didn't look upset, too. Pansy left Alastor and walked on over. "Excuse me, Professor," she interrupted. "But we don't have the address to the house."

"Are you leaving already?" she asked, her stern eyes behind their omnipresent square spectacles focusing intently on her former student. "Yes, it's probably for the best. It's number 54 on High Street, just near the end. If you..." she paused for a moment. "... get lost, just pop in to the Hog's Head and ask Aberforth," she added wryly.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at the obvious dig. "Thank you," she said stiltedly. Dig or not, McGonagall didn't _have_ to let them use her house, and it was either that or the atrocious pigsty that Albus' younger brother passed off as an inn. She turned and went back to where Hermione was _still_ lecturing their husbands. That girl did not know when to shut her mouth. "I have the address," she interrupted, clasping her hands lightly around Alastor's arm.

Hermione had stopped, obviously mid-sentence, and she looked rather put-out. "I'll owl when I know for sure," she told Albus and then the two of them exchanged a light kiss. There was a moment of hesitation as she regarded the other two men, both of whom she was also married to, but she obviously hadn't been intimate with either of them. She settled for a kiss on the cheek to each, color staining her face, and then she went over to where Ginny was also sulking. Ginny waved, and that was apparently all the goodbye they were going to get from _her._ She and James really were perfect for each other, they could just sit and sulk at one another.

But Alastor pulled away and went over to the younger redhead. He said something, and then she did, and then he pulled her up against him and kissed her thoroughly, then lowered her back into her seat. Her cheeks almost matched her hair. The sounds of gossip grew pointedly louder at that.

Pansy scowled. She knew that at some point, they were going to have to swap partners, but she didn't have to like it.

Alastor strode heavily back over. He was a large man, but he gave off the impression of taking up even more physical space than he already did. Imposing, that was the word. Pansy took his arm again and they all left the castle.

"I start work on Tuesday," Alastor told her as they all walked down the well-worn path toward the nearby village. "I'll need a wand, of course, but we can get that in the morning."

"So do I," James said, surprising her.

"What about you?" she asked Albus.

"Alas, not until September," came the amused-sounding reply.

"What, teaching?"

"I don't imagine I could do much else, after hearing how brilliant I was as a headmaster," he replied drily.

Pansy did not answer that. She hadn't thought too much of him, she'd thought he was too soft, right up until the end when he'd proved exactly how shrewd he'd been the whole time. She had to admire a plan coming together like that, even if it was for Potter.

"What about you, miss?" Alastor asked.

"What about me, what?"

"Do you work?"

"Of course not," she replied airily. "I have a trust fund."

"So you'll be on hand to help introduce us to this new world," Albus suggested.

"I suppose so." Merlin, she hadn't even thought about that. James was... Well, Harry was 18 or 19, which meant James was from a little under 20 years ago. Alastor, probably the late 60s or early 70s, and Albus... She didn't even want to think about how long ago he was his present age. "Why are you all so young, anyway? _Please_ don't get me wrong, I'm really glad you're not the ages you were when you died, but even you're younger, James."

"I'll ask Hunt about it on Tuesday," her youngest husband replied, and she could hear the frown in his voice.

"Hunt? Wasn't that one of the Unspeakables?"

"Yes. That's what I'll be doing."

"Really?" She was impressed. Britain's best Auror, a man who'd been called the most powerful wizard Britain had ever seen, and an Unspeakable. Curse or not, she could have done a lot worse for herself.

"Yes," he answered. "I expect it'll be the best way to find out exactly what this curse entails and how much of the magic is going to 'leak out.'"

"And also if there's any way around it," she suggested, and she saw him nod in the dim light. The path was lit with hanging lanterns, negating her need to provide light from her wand.

"Do you have family we need to acquaint ourselves with?" Albus asked politely.

Her parents. Something else she hadn't really thought about. They were somewhere in Europe, the last owl she'd received from them had been from Greece. Ever since she'd become of age a little over two years ago, they'd spent barely any time at home, preferring instead to travel the world in the name of "business." Her dad was a photographer and he was paid to jaunt all over the place and do as he pleased, as long as he snapped a picture or two. He even worked for Muggle magazines, not that it was something that was discussed.

"No," she said bitterly. "I do, I mean, but they're traveling. I don't know when they'll be back." She supposed she would have to owl them. Her mum would be disappointed that she wouldn't be able to throw the grand event that Pansy had always thought her wedding would be, but she certainly wouldn't carry on like Ginny's mum had.

"Ah," was all the auburn-haired man said.

They were high enough in the mountains that it was a little chilly. She moved a little closer to Alastor, who obliged her by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and holding her close against his side.

They reached Hogsmeade in due course, and walked along the High Street until they got to the end. Pansy stopped and stared at number 54 in disbelief. "That's not a house, that's a wardrobe with windows."

"Let's see the inside, then." Alastor kept walking, and so she had to as well. She pulled out her wand and used the unlocking charm and then went inside.

All of the furniture was covered in white sheets and a layer of dust. The front door opened into a sitting room. There was a small kitchen and dining room at the back, a lavatory, and two bedrooms. "Well," Pansy declared after exploring the extent of the house. "This is a problem."

James frowned. "It'll be a tight fit with the four of us, let alone six."

"And privacy," Pansy agreed. "I guess none of you have property anywhere, or we wouldn't be in this situation."

"I'll sleep out here." James was pulling the sheets off of the furniture, creating a great stir of dust and Pansy started sneezing.

"Here," she said sourly, offering him her wand. "Before you choke us all to death on the dust."

He snatched it from her, looking somewhat cross, and started waving it about. The dust vanished and the sheets peeled off, revealing furnishings that were old and faded, though still in good repair. He shoved the wand back at her and she took it.

"Thanks," she told him insincerely.

Alastor gave her a hard look. "That's your husband, miss, it wouldn't hurt you to show some kindness."

She turned her glare to the burly wizard, who appeared unaffected. "Are any of you hungry?" she asked after a moment. "We can go over to the Three Broomsticks and get something to eat." "You don't cook?" James asked, somewhat incredulously.

"No. Why, do you?" she shot back. "It's not like there's going to be any food in the pantry, anyway. I don't think McGongall's been here in years."

"Hermione suggested that we would need to do a great deal of shopping tomorrow," Albus told her, his eyes twinkling as though he was very amused by the whole situation.

"I expect we will," she answered seriously. "Right now, though, I'm going to go and get something to eat." She looked between her three husbands. "And something to drink. You can come with me if you want."

* * *

Pansy sat in the comfortable chair, her arms crossed, glaring out the window of Twilfitt and Tattings, her legs crossed at the knee and her foot bouncing in irritation. There was a crowd gathered outside, as though they had nothing better to do than stand in the street and gawk. It had started when they'd gone into Ollivanders to purchase wands. Ollivander had been beside himself with what he considered was the honor of fitting three such prolific wizards with new wands. A few people had seen them, word had spread quickly, and now there was an actual crowd standing outside the shop.

Pansy sniffed impatiently. This was the last thing they were going to be able to get done in Diagon Alley. Everything else would have to wait or be done in Hogsmeade, where the reaction to her three husbands was rather less publicly rude.

Draco Malfoy strode into the shop, looking rather put out by the group outside. "Pansy," he said with a smirk. "I should have known."

She rolled her eyes. "What does that mean?" She didn't have any patience for him. It had already been a long morning, and wasn't even close to being over.

He walked over and lounged indolently in the chair beside her. "Imagine my surprise when I showed up at your house yesterday and you weren't there. And then you turn up later with Granger, Weasley, and three wizards who, it's rumored, were very dead up until yesterday. Now there's so many people out there in the street I can barely get about, it follows that you would be in here."

She raised her nose and looked away from him. "I apologize for not being there last night, I was occupied elsewhere."

"I gathered. So who got married?" he asked bluntly.

"So instead of being concerned that I wasn't at home because something was wrong and coming to make sure I was alright, you came in here to catch up on your gossip straight from the source?" She gave him a withering glare. "Go away, Draco."

"Don't think so. I'm a customer, just like you." He was almost unbearably smug, and Pansy continued to scowl at him.

Madam Toft, the seamstress in charge of the shop, came out of a dressing room looking rather harried. "Mr Malfoy," she greeted him, her lips pursed. "I'm afraid I'm all tied up right now but I should be available within the hour."

"That's fine," he drawled at her. "I'll just sit here and wait."

Pansy's scowl grew. She turned her back on him and her foot bounced a little harder as her irritation increased.

Alastor was the first one done. He came out of the changing area and crossed the room to stand by her. He seemed to take in her scowl, her posture, and the smirking young man beside her and then asked, "Is he bothering you, miss?"

"It's fine," Pansy answered shortly.

He looked out the window at the crowd of people. "We'll have to apparate home."

She nodded reluctantly. "We can get food and anything else you're looking for in Hogsmeade. You're going to need a broomstick, aren't you?"

"I am."

"There's a shop there that sells them, I think," Pansy mused. Draco wasn't even pretending that he wasn't listening in on the conversation, but she was doing her best just to ignore him.

James came out of the changing area with a sour look on his face. That was no surprise. He didn't elaborate and Pansy just didn't want to know. "Are you going to want a broomstick?" she asked him.

His face brightened considerably, perhaps the happiest she'd seen him since they'd met. _Yesterday_. "I would, actually," he replied. "It would be good to fly again. I played Quidditch when I was at Hogwarts."

"I've heard," she answered shortly. Mostly, in connection to Potter- the one she wasn't married to- and how he was just like his dad. Her eyes narrowed at the thought. Did this mean she was Potter's stepmother?

Draco apparently took that as his signal to insert himself into the conversation. "James... Potter, right?" he asked, with insincere friendliness.

James looked at the blond wizard, his hazel eyes behind his glasses very suspicious. "Yes. You look like a Malfoy." He'd probably been at school around the same time as the elder Malfoy, and Draco did look a lot like his father.

"Draco Malfoy." He offered his hand, which James stared at with open distrust. When it became clear that the raven-haired wizard was not going to take it, he dropped it and rubbed it on his trousers. "My father was saying it's pretty strange that you're back now, after all this time."

"Your father is a pompous arse," James returned conversationally, but there was an underlying hardness to his words.

Pansy turned her head away and rubbed her hand over her mouth to hide her smirk. She met Alastor's eye, and he winked at her again. To be fair, Draco's father was a pompous arse.

Draco did not look happy at that, but she just couldn't bring herself to care.

Albus emerged next, followed by Madam Toft. "We'll have everything owled when it's ready," she was telling him.

"Surely, Madam Toft, it would be more practical to come and retrieve them?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling with a little amusement.

She eyed the small crowd outside the shop and pursed her lips. "This crowd is running off my business." She was obviously just as impressed with the group outside as Pansy was.

"I assure you, good madam, we would only be a few minutes."

He was very charming, and Madam Toft was giving him a begrudging smile. "Alright," she conceded. "Now who do I see about the bill?"

"That would be me," Pansy said, getting to her feet. She followed the proprietress over to the counter with the register. The total was somewhat impressive, but Pansy handed over the required galleons without batting an eye. She was an only child, and her parents liked to think that money made up for their absence.

Alastor left the shop first, using his bulk to clear a spot for them. James, Albus, and Pansy followed soon after, and then the four of them disapparated back to the little cottage.

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favs/follows, and thank you for reading. It makes me :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink in the abandoned girls' lavatory. Her stomach was still roiling, but there couldn't possibly be anything else in it.

She heard footsteps on the tile and looked over to see Luna coming back, followed by a very concerned-looking Ginny. Luna had followed her in there shortly after breakfast and, after witnessing Hermione doing her very best to purge her body of everything she'd eaten in the year or so, gone to get help.

"Are you sick?" Ginny asked, kneeling down beside her.

"Yes," Hermione groaned. "And I won't be getting better for about nine months."

Ginny sat back on her heels, looking a little horrified. "You're... pregnant?" she breathed.

Hermione nodded and she felt around until she found Ginny's fingers. She clutched her friend's hand desperately. "This was such a bad idea," she moaned.

"What? When? How?" Ginny's mind was racing through the questions.

"Sex," Luna answered seriously. "That's how pregnancy happens."

The redhead's face got very pink. "I know that!" she snapped. She turned back to Hermione. "We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione groaned again. "I'm going to be sick if I get up and walk."

"I'll go," Luna offered with a kind smile. "I'll bring her right back here." She ran out of the room, leaving the two witches alone. They could have sent a Patronus, but Luna had seemed to sense that Hermione wanted a chance to be able to talk to Ginny.

"I need to owl Albus," Hermione mumbled. "Tell him-" she stopped talking and swallowed heavily against the gagging feeling in her throat.

"Albus? You and..." Ginny shook her head. "You were fine this morning."

"I was. And then... breakfast." Her stomach heaved again and she closed her eyes. "Don't talk about breakfast," she whispered.

"Why, Hermione?"

"He knows a charm... to ensure fertility. I thought it was a good idea to get this over with... as soon as possible."

Ginny took off her school robes and made a little pillow, and gently lowered Hermione down onto it. The floor was clean, at least, the house-elves saw to that. "There. Why, though? What happens if they figure this out and break it somehow?"

"Then I'll have a child with a very capable father." It was a little easier, lying down. Just as long as she didn't move. "Albus is a good man, I'm sure he'll make he a good father. And what happens if they don't?" she suggested. "I'd like to be free from the obligations sooner rather than later."

Her friend turned a little pale at that idea. "But you're still in school."

"Yeah. I told you this was a bad idea." She gave a weak smile, which Ginny returned. "It could be worse, you know."

"What?"

"I've been thinking about it, it could be worse. They're all... good wizards. It could have been Dolohov... Or Greyback." Her stomach threatened to rise again at even the thought of it. "I never thought I'd be thankful to Voldemort for anything."

"Bit arrogant, though, wasn't it?" the redhead asked, seemingly at random.

"What's that?"

"Harry broke out of the Imperius curse, didn't he? And Albus is stronger than he is- Alastor too, maybe. Did he really think he could keep all of us under the Imperius?"

Thinking about it did distract a little from the nausea. "Maybe he thought they wouldn't be so strong if they were younger. There are lust potions, too. Dose a pair of us up and stick us in a room together and what do you think would happen?" She stared thoughtfully at the stone ceiling. "Why do you think they're younger?"

Ginny nodded, seeming to consider it. "James thinks it has something to do with them being the happiest. He'd just had Harry, Albus had just taken the job here, and Alastor was an auror just before the war started the first time around."

"James?" She looked over to see that the other witch had gone a little pink again. "Are you talking to him?" That would be good.

"Alastor told me. We've been sending letters back and forth."

"That's good. Easier to..." She paused delicately. "Easier when you get along. It'll be good though. The sex."

Ginny frowned. It wasn't exactly like they hadn't talked about sex before, although that had stopped when Hermione had started dating Ron and Ginny had started dating Harry. "You can't know that."

Hermione nodded. "Pansy certainly seemed like she was having a good time, didn't she? Something about this curse makes the sex just brilliant. Albus isn't even attracted to women. At least, not normally."

As the look of shock covered Ginny's face, the door banged open to admit not only Luna and the school's nurse, but a frowning headmistress as well.

* * *

"Pregnant!" the headmistress exclaimed. "At Hogwarts!" She was pacing agitatedly around the foot of the bed. "There hasn't been a pregnant student here in... Well, never!"

"To be fair, there haven't been any married students here either, unless things have changed very much in the last 90 years." Her auburn-haired husband had been summoned up from Hogsmeade and was sitting in a chair beside the head of the hospital bed Hermione was resting in, holding her hand. Ginny was seated on her other side, mostly silent.

"What made you think this would be a good idea, Albus? I know Miss Granger didn't come up with this on her own."

His eyes were twinkling with amusement. "I merely reminded her of the obligations of our... unique situation; my very practical wife made the decision to go forward with it."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Hermione snapped, scowling at her husband and her headmistress in turn. She was feeling better. Madam Pomfrey had poured a potion down her throat and, after checking to make sure that her charge was indeed pregnant, had pressed her into a hospital bed and insisted she spend the rest of the day resting and rehydrating.

"Your N.E.W.T.s, Miss Granger?" Her Charms N.E.W.T. Was set for the next day.

"As long as I can get more of these potions, I'll be fine," Hermione insisted. Honestly, she'd been ready to take the exams at the beginning of the year, but the N.E.W.T.s weren't available until June.

"When is your last exam?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Next Wednesday," Hermione replied.

"And you, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny looked startled at being addressed. "Next Tuesday."

"As soon as you've completed the practical portion of your last N.E.W.T., I think it would be best for you both to join your..." she seemed to hesitate on what word to use. "Family," she finally finished. "You will miss the send-off, but I think under the circumstances..." The headmistress looked between them all again and shook her head before leaving.

"Poppy gave me the recipe for the potion," Albus told her, gently tucking a piece of her rebellious stray hair behind her ear. "Pansy and I shall ensure there is some waiting for you when you arrive next week."

She caught his hand and kissed it. "Thank you." She hesitated. "How... How is it?"

"Rather cramped," he answered promptly. "Pansy has owled her parents to inquire if they would consider purchasing some land for us to build on as a wedding gift."

"Has she?" Hermione was honestly a little surprised at that. That seemed just a little too generous for the Pansy Parkinson she knew.

"There are, after all, only the two bedrooms and with you already expecting, we'll need to start building a large enough house for six adults and at least nine children."

Hermione frowned. "That's a lot of people." She hadn't really considered it before, as silly as that sounded. Nine children. If, of course, no one had multiples and no one decided to continue on having children after the required children were out of the way.

"It is." He got to his feet and gave her a gentle kiss. "I should let you rest. Ginny, will you walk me out?"

Ginny's attention snapped over from where she'd been staring out the window with a start. "O-Of course," she stammered. "I'll be right back." She hesitated and then took the arm he offered her and they walked out of the hospital wing together.

Hermione frowned, watching the two walk away. She hadn't really thought this far. All of her plans had included getting everything situated up until the actual being pregnant, but now that she _was_ pregnant, she didn't quite know what to do. Clothes? Furniture? But that would need to wait until they got a bigger house for any of that, really, if the cottage was as small as Albus had implied.

The frown grew somewhat cross. They'd already been living in Hogsmeade for over a month, why hadn't they sorted something else out, yet? It's not like Hermione really had the opportunity to while she was stuck in school. Or that Pansy really had a job.

A job. That was another complication. Who was going to hire her if she was serially pregnant? Who was going to hire someone fresh out of Hogwarts who was pregnant?

Ginny came back in short order, looking pensive. She took her seat again and stared at Hermione. "He..." She didn't quite seem to know what to say.

"What?" The question came out a little snappier than was intended, and Ginny's cheeks flushed a little at the tone.

"He asked if I wanted to ensure conception now as well." The blush grew as she spoke. "Apparently they're expecting Pansy to announce some good news soon from all the shagging she and Alastor are doing. I told him I'd think about it."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. The practical side of her understood that it made sense. If Albus fulfilled all of his... obligations right away, maybe they could see if that would release them from this curse. It made sense, it was logical, it was even reasonable.

But the emotional side of her that had wanted to cry this morning at the thought that the giant squid might be lonely in the lake wanted nothing to do with any of that. He'd _just_ conceived a baby with her. Recently enough that the "morning" sickness was just starting to pick up steam. "It makes sense." She sounded bitter, even to herself. Very, very bitter.

"I guess." Ginny sounded uncertain. "He had a good point though, it's either that or wait until James and I..." she trailed off, seeming uncertain of what to say.

"Stop reminding each other of his wife and son?" Hermione suggested.

"Right. You know, when he found me at the lake I thought he was Harry, come in early."

"What about Alastor? I thought you two were... getting along."

Ginny's lips set into a firm line. "Do you really think she's going to want to..."

"Share?" That was a good point. Pansy wasn't exactly known for being reasonable. "I guess not."

"Neither are you," her friend observed, brushing off the denial that was sure to come when Hermione opened her mouth to answer. "It's fine, we'll... we'll work it out." That was punctuated by a heavy sigh. "It could be worse, right? Death Eaters, psychotic werewolves, that lot?"

The thought somehow didn't seem as cheery as it had just a little while ago.

* * *

By the time Madam Pomfrey finally let Hermione leave the infirmary, the rumors were already flying around the school. She was getting a lot of side-looks and people were avoiding getting too close. She wanted to snap at them, to shout that pregnancy wasn't contagious, but she held her tongue and contented herself with glaring furiously at anyone who dared meet her eyes.

The Gryffindor Common Room wasn't any better. At least Ginny was there, understanding and sympathetic. They immediately went up to the dorm they shared with the other seventh years and Hermione collapsed gratefully on the bed.

"Feeling better?" Ginny asked.

"So tired," Hermione replied. She felt like she could barely keep her eyes open. She'd missed dinner, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted she eat before leaving the hospital wing, and informed her that small, frequent meals would help keep her stomach from rebelling too much. "I'm just so drained, Ginny."

"You should owl Mum," her friend suggested. "She's done this six times."

Molly Weasley had come to consider Hermione as another daughter. At least, she had before Hermione had ended up married to someone who wasn't Ron. They hadn't so much as sent an owl since- not that it was necessarily abnormal for them not to owl at least once in a month, but the lack of communication seemed to stick out right now.

"I don't know," she hedged. "Is she still mad at me?"

"Never was," Ginny assured her quickly. "She was upset at first, but I think that was more about losing the fantasy of the wedding she was going to throw me and the idea of having Harry as a son-in-law." She stopped for a moment and then shook her head briskly. "Now he's her... Grandson-in-law?" She looked helplessly up at Hermione. "Why did it have to be Harry's dad?"

Hermione nodded in commiseration. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

"She is throwing a huge party, though. I mean, she's saying it's a graduation party for Luna and us, but she's really going all out with it. I think Charlie's even coming in."

"Why wouldn't she just tell everyone it's a wedding reception?" she asked with a frown.

Ginny shrugged. "Something to do with Pansy's parents. They're not here or they want to throw their own or something like that."

"Did you tell..." Hermione paused. How was she supposed to refer to her three husbands and Pansy? "The family?" she finally settled on, echoing Professor McGongall's choice of words.

"I sent Alastor an owl." Again, her cheeks went just a little pink. "What is our last name, anyway?"

Hermione lay back on the bed and frowned at the canopy. "Maybe I'm Hermione Granger-Dumbledore-Moody-Potter? And you're Ginny Weasley-Dumbledore-Moody-Potter? And we're the Granger-Weasley-Parkinson-Dumbledore-Moody-Potter family? Try fitting that on an envelope. We should make an acronym." The two burst out laughing as they came up with some acronyms- Greaparblepody, Weagrapardummoopot. "I'm keeping my maiden name, I think," she affirmed when they subsided. "Maybe James knows the naming protocol. Isn't he able to actually do these kind of marriages now?"

Ginny nodded. "I think so. Or maybe when he's done his training? I'm not sure. He probably can't talk about it." She paused. "What are we, even? To each other, I mean. We share the same husbands, isn't there some kind of name for this?"

"There's got to be, somewhere."

"If anyone can find it, I'm sure it's you," Ginny teased gently. "You look really tired, Hermione."

She nodded. "Apparently that's part potion and part gestating a baby."

"Owl Mum. If there's anyone who knows a lot about pregnancy, it's Mum. I think she even helped deliver a few babies."

Hermione frowned. "Don't I just show up at St. Mungo's when my water breaks?" She'd researched the whole pregnancy thing- what symptoms to expect when, possible complications, approximate gestation period, even how to know when it was genuine labor. But she hadn't looked at delivery at all. Her own mum had been out for lunch with Dad when her water had broken, and she'd just gone to the local hospital. Apparently, though, this was yet another case of how things differed in wizarding society. Maybe Mrs Weasley was a midwife or something?

Ginny looked at her sharply. "Why would you do that?"

Hermione frowned back. "Well, what happens, then?" she asked, somewhat crossly.

"Your mum or someone else good with household charms for pain and whatnot comes and helps you deliver. You do most of the work, they're just there to make sure the pain isn't horrible and run the bath and catch the baby if you need them to. Things like that."

"Muggles go to see a doctor."

"What, at the hospital?" Ginny was incredulous.  
"Yeah. There's a maternity ward."

"That wouldn't be a good idea," the redhead told her. "That's why it's always an event when a witch delivers a baby. Someone helps with the delivery, the father holds the witch's hand, and the friends and family of the new parents make sure nothing happens."

"What would happen?" Scenarios started flying through Hermione's mind, none of them pleasant.

"Uncontrolled magic. Mum set the table on fire when she was having Fred and George."

Hermione shifted up until she was sitting the proper way on the bed and then collapsed back against the pillow. That would be bad in St. Mungo's. "Well couldn't... The father help deliver?"

Her friend frowned. "I suppose. Albus might be able to. Usually the fathers are so concerned with their wives that they're not much good for the practical things. Hand-holding and saying soothing things is too much sometimes." The frown turned into a sudden grin. "Apparently Dad wasn't even allowed in the house when Mum was having Bill because he was too flustered and Mum just kept swearing and screaming at him." She seemed to notice the expression on her friend's face. "Owl Mum," she repeated gently.

Hermione nodded. "What if... What if something goes wrong?"

"You saw Mum fix up George's ear, right? It's just a matter of knowing the basic household medical charms." Ginny paused. "That's the only time you would see a healer during pregnancy, if something... happened, I guess." She went over to sit on the bed beside Hermione and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "But that won't happen. You're the brightest witch of your age, Albus is... Albus Dumbledore." She flashed a grin. "So when are you due?"

"January."

"That's good, you get to be pregnant for Christmas. Mum said one of her favorite things with the twins and Ron was being pregnant for Christmas dinner and all of the biscuits and sweets..." Ginny looked down at her friend. "You need some sleep so you're ready for your Charms N.E.W.T. tomorrow, so I'll let you rest."

Hermione wasn't awake for too much longer; she'd barely been able to keep her eyes open to talk to Ginny.

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! **

**LadyBookworm80- I was thinking about it, but then Draco showed up and he is SUCH a mood-killer. ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Concrete63- Yes! That's perfect! :D LadyBookworm80- Thank you! I always wondered the same thing about Weasley kids having multiples, why wasn't it a thing?**

Ginny woke up on the transfigured sofa, squinting in the bright summer sunshine that poured in from the crack in the curtains. James was snoring on the other sofa and she took a long look at him before getting up and using the loo.

This was getting ridiculous. Pansy's parents still hadn't owled back, and she was getting really tired of sleeping in the sitting room. Hermione and Albus were sharing a room, and so were Pansy and Alastor, of course. Which left a second transfigured sofa in the sitting room for Ginny, and almost no room to move around. Pansy had offered a predictably helpful suggestion- "Just sleep together," as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're small enough to sleep on top of him."

Ginny was the shortest out of the three witches, she'd inherited the Prewett height from Mum. From a practical standpoint, it would work... But then there was the fact that she and James seemed to argue consistently, and _that_ was the worst part about sharing the cramped space with him, not the close quarters on their own.

After she had washed her hands, she went into the small kitchen and got the potion out for Hermione. Of course Pansy didn't need one, even though she was pregnant too. That seemed a little unfair. Hermione was so bad that she still sometimes felt a little nauseated even after the potions, and Pansy was just bursting with how good she felt. She was a little... nicer though. It was strange, but Ginny sure wasn't complaining.

She started making breakfast. Growing up in her family meant that she knew how to cook for large numbers of people. Six wasn't even all that many, relatively speaking.

"Morning, Red."

Every morning. Every single morning, Alastor would use his considerable stealth skills he'd learned during his Auror training and sneak up on her while she was cooking breakfast, and she was just as startled every morning. At least she was able to stifle her startled scream now so that she didn't wake up the other inhabitants of the small cottage. Hermione was very cross when she was woken up early.  
Ginny glared over her shoulder at him and he winked, just as he always did. "Morning," she answered and turned back to the stove. It was useless to be angry with him, it just amused him. "Are you ready for the party today?"

"I can think of a few things I'd rather be doing," he told her, settling himself down at the table.

She felt the answered flood of heat in her face. He seemed to delight in making her blush, and he was just so good at it. "Please don't do any of that while you're at my parents' house. George will find you, and then everyone will see. And I don't think Pansy would really appreciate that."

"What about you, Red?"

The blush again. "I hear you two often enough, I certainly don't need to see you," she shot back. That hadn't been what he'd been asking, and she knew it.

"You'd feel better if you had a good fuck," he told her bluntly.

She was sure she was going to start glowing soon. They'd had this particular discussion before too. "Well, I don't exactly have that option right now, do I?" she answered. Her voice was tired instead of snapping.

"Go over there, pull his trousers down, get on top and bounce up and down a few times. You'll both feel better."

Over the sound of the cooking food, Ginny noticed that the snoring from the sitting room had stopped. Which more than likely meant that James was listening to every word. "I don't think he'd appreciate that too much," she said, giving a pointed look over her shoulder to the back of the occupied sofa.

Alastor ignored the insinuation. "He would. You're a pretty little thing, Red, probably a hellcat in bed."

"I look-"

"Like Lily. We've all heard the excuse. If you ask me, probably be easier to fuck someone that looks like your wife."

"And he looks-"

"Maybe you can show me your room later." He very efficiently cut of the line of protests that she'd honestly gotten a little tired of saying.

"What?" she demanded incredulously. "I don't think Pansy would appreciate that."

"Have to at some point. And the longer you go without having one of us between your legs, the worse you're going to feel. Isn't that what you told me, James?" the question was directed into the sitting room and Ginny resettled the pan on the stove a little harder than was strictly necessary in a flare of temper. He'd known James was awake and he'd insisted on having this conversation anyway.

It wasn't exactly like Ginny was feeling bad, not like Hermione. She just felt out-of-sorts, unsettled, like there was a phantom itch that she couldn't get to because she didn't really know where it was coming from.

The messy black hair became visible over the back of the sofa as James sat up, glasses properly in place. "Something like that," he said, noncommittally.

One of the bedroom doors opened, and Pansy came out, pushing her chin-length hair out of her face. She stopped and looked between the three people already awake and smirked. "Still haven't done the deed," she observed in Ginny's direction. "I can't believe you're this thick." She paused, still smirking. "Maybe I can, I took classes with your brother."

Ginny flushed angrily, but before she could say anything, Pansy continued. "What do you do when you want to get to know someone better?" she asked in a very condescending fashion. She looked between Ginny and James and back again, apparently expecting an answer. "Are you really..." She trailed off, rolling her eyes. "Date. Go on a date. Go out for dinner. Go dancing. Go for coffee. Go skinny-dipping. Get drunk and run naked through Diagon Alley together. At least put a little effort into getting to know each other instead of being sulky and sour and indulging in the most sexually-charged arguments that have ever been argued in the history of arguing." With that, she stalked across the small house and disappeared into the lavatory, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Ginny went back to her cooking, a fresh shade of red in her cheeks.

* * *

For a "graduation party," absolutely everyone was there. Even Charlie had come in from Romania. Stranger still, Gregory Goyle was there, his eyes locked on Luna as she flitted about, talking to people.

At two months after the return of the three formerly dead wizards, wizarding society was getting used to the idea that they were, in fact, back from the dead. Why, though, was hotly contested and while they didn't draw crowds of spectators every time they went out in public anymore, they were still very much the center of attention.

The party was no exception. There were a lot of hushed conversation and curious stares, especially when any of the wives from their little family stood with any of the husbands. Everyone knew that Hermione was pregnant now and married to Albus Dumbledore. That was a certainty. Less certain but still very much assumed was that Pansy and Alastor were married, thanks to their complete inability to keep their hands off of each other, even in public. Much talked about was the fact that both James and Ginny were also sporting the identical wedding rings, but were rarely seen in each other's company. There was also talk from people who were convinced that the six of them were involved in some sort of marriage together, but that hadn't been done in at least 50 years, and certainly not with six people. Aunt Muriel was especially vocal about her disapproval to anyone and everyone within earshot of her ample lung capacity.

Ginny tried to stay at the very edge of the party, outside and away from all of the curiosity and the questions. "Mum," she started as her mum walked by on her way back inside. "Did you invite Goyle?"

The older woman's eyes focused in on the dark-haired young man in question and frowned. "I didn't. Maybe your... Pansy did. Weren't they friends in school?" She patted her daughter's shoulder and moved on, apparently unconcerned. She'd accepted that her daughter was married but she was still having a hard time adjusting to the idea of three sons-in-law- and that the wizards in question also had other two wives. She was doing what she usually did when she was out of her element- keeping busy. Even though there were caterers and waiters for the event, she was still finding things to do.

Ginny frowned, staring at the former Slytherin. She was interrupted on her rumination of just what the bloody hell he was doing there when Alastor strode up to her. "Hiding, Red?" he growled at her.

"Tired of the gossip and speculation. I don't know why we're not just telling everyone what's going on." That wasn't it, not exactly, but that was part of it. A large part of her unease with the crowd and the people wasn't something she could put her finger on. She just felt cross and uncomfortable and she had to admit that it very likely had something to do with what they'd been talking about that morning- the fact that, as yet, her part of the marriage hadn't been consummated

"The Minister doesn't want to alarm anyone until he knows exactly what we're dealing with, does he?" He eyed her speculatively for a moment, as though he knew exactly how ill-at-ease she felt, and then his large hand closed over her elbow. "You should find somewhere more private to show me."

She looked at up him in alarm. "Why?" she challenged.

"Because I'm going to have you and if you don't find somewhere more private, it's going to be against that wall." He didn't sound like he was joking.

Ginny's face went bright red. "What about Pansy?"

"Thought you might want it to be just the two of us, but I can find her if you want."

Her cheeks grew even hotter, if that was even possible. "That's not what I mean!"

"You're my wife too, and it's fairly obvious that you're not in a good way, isn't it?"

She looked around for a moment, and then down at his hand covering her elbow. "Are you serious?" Her voice was just a little more breathy than normal. When she turned to him to meet his eyes, she found her answer in the heated look he was giving her.

"Quite."

"Gin, can I talk to you for a minute?" Bill had appeared almost out of nowhere, and there was a strangely urgent look on his face.

"Can't it wait?" she asked, unable to look away from the dark gaze of the large wizard in front of her.

He looked between her and her burly husband. "Not really."

She sighed. "Isn't it usually the other way around?" Most of the younger Weasleys went to Bill for advice, especially now that he was permanently back in the country.

"Not this time." At last she looked at him. He was normally quite laid back and for him to look this ill at ease, something had to be seriously wrong. "You too, Alastor, if you have a moment."

The Auror grunted his assent. Together, they walked out of the garden and into the orchard enough for the noise of the party to face behind them. Ginny sat down and leaned back against a tree and, after a moment, Bill sat down as well. "What is it?" she asked curiously. Alastor had remained standing and was glancing around alertly.

"You know I've been contracted to work with the Ministry on your... little problem, right?" He wasn't looking at her, instead he was looking over at the line of trees that spread back between their house and the Lovegood's old property.

She folded her arms. "I do now." She hadn't known. And James hadn't said anything about it. _Of course he hadn't_.

Her brother's lips twitched with a humorless smile. "Well, I have been. Anyway, I walked into the Minister's office and he was shagging Luna on top of his desk."

Alastor said something that sounded suspiciously like, "Hah!"

Ginny's eyebrows flew upward. "Really?" she asked. Luna and... the Minister? That was unexpected. Really, _really_ unexpected. Luna had never indicated that they were anything more than acquaintances, and she and Ginny were pretty close.

"Yes. And my first thought was that I wanted it to be me."

She shrugged. "Luna's pretty," she said lightly, studying the side of his scarred face that was presented to her. "I'm still new to this whole being married thing, isn't Dad-"

He cut her off. "And I want to walk over to Angelina and snog her senseless. And I know that this curse is somehow not supposed to be contained to the six of you."

_Oh_.She stared at him for a moment while her mind worked. "You think this is the same kind of situation that I'm stuck in?"

He nodded, his long fingers plucking absently at the grass beneath them, turning brown from the heat of the summer sun.

"Have you talked to Kingsley?" Alastor growled, looking down at lean redhead.

Bill shook his head, looking unsettled.

"Start there," was the sage advice.

"But Luna... She's 17."

"18," Ginny corrected. "She turned 18 in March."

"I'm 28. That's... a big gap, isn't it?"

"The Minister's got to be, what... Almost 40? That didn't seem to bother either one of them, did it?" She watched her brother shift uncomfortably. "Do you know who the other wizard is?"

"No."

"I think it might be Gregory Goyle, I saw him watching Luna just a few minutes ago." That would explain why he'd showed up out of nowhere, she knew that her husbands had been drawn to her and Pansy and Hermione. She sighed. "Albus is turning 27 in a few days," she offered with a shrug. "We get along just fine. And you and Fleur know Luna, right? She's mentioned that she and Fleur stay in touch now."

He frowned. "I hadn't even thought about... Fleur. Is there at least no jealousy?"

Ginny snorted. "Hardly. The reason I'm not currently pregnant right now is because neither Pansy nor Hermione are willing to 'share' and James and I can't seem to get along for two minutes. Yeah, it's a right barrel of laughs." She could feel her husband's dark eyes watching her, but she didn't look up to see him.

"Alastor, how did-"

Any further discussion was cut of by a large amount of shouting that sounded like it was heading for a fight. Ginny and Bill got to their feet and the three sped back to the garden, Alastor with his wand at the ready. They found George and Goyle having an actual fistfight on the grass.

"What happened?" Ginny asked a smirking Pansy as they watched Bill and Dad, and finally Alastor pull the two apart.

"I think Goyle and Johnson started snogging and your brother took exception."

Ginny's eyebrows flew upward. "Bill thinks they've got the same thing going on that we do," she said quietly.

Pansy's smirk dropped. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Who?"

Ginny glanced around to make sure no one else was paying attention, but they were both being disregarded for seemingly the first time since they'd arrived. "Bill and his wife, Goyle, Angelina, Luna, and Shacklebolt."

The other witch brushed her hand over belly. "What do you bet we have another 'meeting' with the Minister tomorrow?" she murmured.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "If they wait that long. Where's Hermione?"

"She had James take her home." Was that actually sympathy in Pansy's dark eyes? "The heat was getting to her."

_And James has a hard time being around Harry_. Not that she could really blame him, Harry was a little eager to get to know his dad and James was still adjusting to his son being almost his age instead of an infant. "Where's Albus?"

Pansy inclined her head towards where the tall wizard was engaged in conversation with the Minister. After a moment, the two wizards walked over. "Ginny," Albus started, offering her small bow. "While I appreciate the effort your mother put towards this event in our honor, I believe we must leave for a rather urgent conference."

Ginny looked wryly at Pansy and was a little taken aback to realize that they'd shared a look, much the same way she did with Hermione. "Yeah, Bill was saying. Why don't we make our goodbyes and go home?"

"If I may, my home is considerably larger," the Minister suggested.

"You and the rest of England," Pansy answered with a smirk.

"We're two family members short, Minister," Albus observed. "It may help you to be able to speak with all of us."

"I'll go," Ginny suggested. "Hermione might be sleeping and a Patronus would wake her up. If she is, I'm going to let her sleep."

Mum was not happy that such a large group of people- and especially the guests of honor- were leaving without ceremony. Albus managed to charm her out of a temper, though, and after hugs and kisses for her and Dad, Ginny apparated back to Hogsmeade.

When she unlocked the door to the small cottage and stepped inside, her jaw dropped. She stared for a moment, unblinking. "We're... Needed." she finally managed.

Hermione grabbed her shirt and slipped it back over her head. "What's wrong?" her friend asked her.

"Bill and Luna are... Dealing with this too. We need to go out to the Minister's home." She looked at James, who was refusing to meet her eyes. "Can you do group marriages yet?"

He nodded.

Her temper flared. "Look, just because you refuse to touch me, doesn't mean you can't give one of your other wives a backrub," she snapped. "Why am I the only person who seems to realize that we all married three people, not just one?" Well, that wasn't entirely true. Alastor and Albus seemed aware of the fact too, but that wasn't relevant just now.

"Refuse to touch you?" He was looking at her now, hazel eyes snapping with his own temper. "_I'm_ refusing to touch _you_?"

"Oh, did I miss the invitation, then?"

"I have to extend an invitation for my wife to touch me?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"You do if you can't even bear to look at me!" He'd come up off the sofa and they were standing facing each other now, her pointed finger jabbing the middle of his chest for emphasis. The tension between them was palpable, like an elastic stretched almost to the breaking point.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Don't we need to get going?" she asked lightly.


End file.
